Breakfast Not Served Here
by xerus
Summary: A look into Oliver's world
1. When the toast is burning

Seeing as I'm getting pretty good with the whip, and everyone else is producing stories and updating them, I guess I should put up or shut up. Since I have a tendency to run on at the mouth, shutting up is not an option.  
  
I don't own a darn thing as far as the OC goes. It's time to play again!  
  
Breakfast Not Served Here.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"When the toast is burning"  
  
Oliver had always dreaded this day. With the exception of one time, nothing good had ever happened on May 12. The house would soon be filled with kids he didn't like. Offspring of friends and associates of his parents, invited to a birthday party. His birthday party.  
  
He sat on his bed looking at the navy suit his mother had placed there. He was turning 12 today and instead of having a few non existent friends over to play video games, hang out in the pool or even head over to Thunder Alley to run some laps in the go-carts, he was at home in his room, refusing to put on the stupid suit while his mother was in the midst of crawling inside a bottle of Remy Martin VSOP. His father was directing the caterers, magicians, clowns and other childish forms of entertainment to their places, all the while barking orders into a cell phone that was permanently attached to his ear.  
  
He thought back to his 9th birthday. It was the best day he'd ever had. His parents had forgotten his birthday. They were overseeing the construction of a hotel in Amsterdam and planned to take a few extra weeks to spend some "quality" time together. He had stayed in one of the family's hotels in Los Angeles, after being "asked" to leave yet another exclusive boarding school. A newly hired concierge had been asked to take care of him. Natalie Bishop was not happy with the turn of events. He knew she was annoyed. Hotel staff liked to talk and they always forgot he was around. He knew she had a degree in Marketing. He knew babysitting some "snot-nosed kid" was not why she accumulated a $25,000 student loan debt, but with the banks making noises about loan repayment, she couldn't afford to lose this job. He knew all that, but it was still the best day he'd ever had.  
  
He looked at himself in the mirror. The navy blue suit, pale grey shirt, burgundy tie, a perfect Windsor knot. His father peered back at him from the mirror. Oliver closed his eyes, not wanting to look at his father's image. He put his hands over his ears to block out his father's voice. The words came through anyway.  
  
Useless, lazy, stupid...  
  
They all added to the swirling cauldron, churning with the fear, doubt and self-loathing already brewing.  
  
He knew his mother was now in the room with him. He didn't have to see or hear her. He just knew she was there. He opened his eyes and saw his own reflection staring back at him.  
  
"I'm ready now Mother..."  
  
She turned him around and gave him a quick hug, careful not to smear her make-up. He could smell the brandy.  
  
"Happy Birthday Oliver... I can't believe you're 11 years old already... You look so handsome, just like your father..." "I'm 12!" He wanted to scream at her. "I'm 12 and you can't make me go to this stupid party with those stupid people and wearing this stupid suit!"  
  
His rage intensified. He clenched his fists.  
  
Not yet... Not now.... It's not time for the game... You're not ready...  
Not yet...  
  
Davina Trask released her son. He smiled at her.  
  
"Thank-you Mother.  
  
Natalie didn't know what to do with Oliver. He had barely acknowledged her presence. He was sitting on the floor of the penthouse watching a blank tv screen. He enjoyed staring at the dead space, focusing and unfocusing his eyes, watching the colours in his mind meld together, a kaleidoscope of shapes and hues.  
  
She sat down directly in front of him.  
  
"What would you like to do Oliver? I could take you down to the pool?"  
  
He continued to stare, but now he was concentrating on her.  
  
"Would you like to watch a movie?"  
  
Again, nothing.  
  
Natalie got up and looked around the suite. There was nothing personal about it. No pictures, no mementos. Nothing to suggest that the family spent a lot of time there. The suite itself was beautiful, put together by a leading interior design group, but it was sterile. Her eyes caught a piece of paper placed neatly on the desk. She hoped it would be instructions of some sort. There were only 3 lines, written by a child.  
  
Mother. Father. Birthday cake. Ice cream. May 12.  
  
She stared at the paper. That was today's date. Small fingers reached up and grabbed it out of her hands. Oliver's eyes were cold and hard.  
  
"That's mine..." He said in a quiet steely voice.  
  
Natalie had no idea what she was going to do next when she took Oliver by the hand.  
  
"We're getting out of here..."  
  
Oliver held his mother's arm, just as he had been taught to do in Ms Mandelbaum's etiquette class. Oliver Seaton Trask III and his wife, Davina Carlisle Trask were well schooled in the social graces. They expected nothing less from Oliver Seaton Trask IV. Oliver performed well. His mother smiled radiantly, but he knew the glow came from a bottle of 40 year old brandy, not maternal pride.  
  
He was then handed off to his father and made the rounds of introductions to the movers and shakers of the hospitality industry. Oliver performed well again. His father scowled. He knew the scowl came because Davina Carlisle Trask let herself get knocked up at the age of 40 by a man who did not want children. There would never be any paternal pride.  
  
Oliver stared at the rows of shelves. He'd never been in a grocery store. Of course he knew these kinds of places existed, but he'd only ever seen the outside of them from the back of a limousine. He was fascinated by the sheer quantity of items. Natalie let him push the buggy, not even getting angry with him when he ran into the back of her legs with it. He watched as she loaded up with boxes of cake mix, powdered sugar, butter, eggs and ice cream cones. She let him pick the ice cream, putting 2 different kinds in the buggy when he couldn't decide which one to choose. The groceries filled the trunk of Natalie's small car. They raced back to her apartment before the ice cream could melt.  
  
Oliver loosened his tie and slipped it over his head, smoothing it before he hung it on the tie rack in his closet. He took off the detested blue suit, carefully hanging it up. Ms Mandelbaum had taught him well. He put his khaki's and polo shirt back on. Reclining in his bed, he knew no one would miss him. The diversions his father hired would see to it the children were entertained. The diversions the bartenders provided would see to it the adults were also kept entertained. Happy 12th Birthday.  
  
Natalie took Oliver to the beach, laughing as she watched him chase the seagulls. She sat with him as he ate his first ever hot dog. She took him to the go-cart track. They raced lap after lap. Natalie slowed down when she saw the "win at all costs" look in the 9 year old's face. After a lot of coaxing, she managed to bring Oliver back to her apartment. It was time to make a birthday cake. Helping make your own birthday cake was a Bishop family tradition. After they filled the cake pan, she showed him to put the left over batter into a flat bottom ice cream cone. She let him hold the mixer as she measured icing sugar, vanilla and butter into a bowl. The powdery substance coated all the kitchen's surfaces as Natalie neglected to tell Oliver to use the low speed. By the time they were finished, her kitchen looked like a level 5 hurricane had torn through it. Cake batter, powdered sugar and multi-coloured sprinkles were everywhere. It was all part of the tradition.  
  
Oliver ventured downstairs later that night. The pile of unopened gifts were in the living room. His mother was sleeping off the brandy. His father was probably "schtooping" one of the young girls who had helped out at the party. Sure enough, he caught a quick glimpse of a pretty brunette sneaking out the side door. Judging from her disheveled clothing, she must have gotten a very good tip for services rendered. His father was still in his study. Oliver watched as he zipped up his pants.  
  
"I wanted to thank you Father, for the party. It was very nice of you and Mother to invite all my friends..."  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask III looked at his son. They both knew the boy had no friends. 7 years of therapy twice a week had garnered no results in giving Trask senior the type of child he could at least tolerate. He didn't leave the drunken whore when she got pregnant. It was the Carlisle fortune that was his true love and if he left the marriage, he would receive nothing. Davina and Oliver Seaton Trask IV were just his burden to bear.  
  
Oliver felt his father's eyes look right through him. He wondered if his father would even mention the fact that Oliver was "asked" to leave another boarding school at the end of the academic year. A generous donation would ensure his school transcripts would reveal nothing but good grades and glowing remarks.  
  
Oliver's father pointed to a stack of brochures on his desk. They had been pushed haphazardly to the side along with all the other desk accessories.  
  
"Find a school..."  
  
Oliver smirked. His father "had" noticed.  
  
"Yes sir..." Sarcasm dripped from his voice  
  
He waited for his father to say something else. Anything.  
  
Oliver watched as his father left the room and walked out of the house.  
  
Natalie enlisted one of the security guards to carry a sleepy Oliver up to the penthouse. She carried the left over birthday cake and cupcake cones while a porter brought up her luggage. She'd be staying in the suite for the next few weeks. The security guard put Oliver on his bed and wished Natalie good luck. The porter hung around for a tip. Natalie handed him a cupcake cone. She went into Oliver's bedroom. The room was as cold and sterile as the rest of the suite unless you looked at the small boy sleeping in the large bed. His tousled hair, sleepy smile and icing smudged cheeks brought life into the hotel room. She bent down and gave in a kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Good night squirt..."  
  
"I love you Natalie..." A tiny voice answered.  
  
Maybe she could be happy with the turn of events.  
  
Oliver blindly fished out a brochure from the pile. St. Anthony's Academy. It would do. He'd only be there for a year anyway. He placed the pamphlet next to the wet spot on the desk. At least his father had a good time. Happy 12th Fucking Birthday. 


	2. all the milk has turned

I have no excuse for taking so long to update other than I like wearing the CFM boots... A lot... too much... I don't want to take them off. I can mow the lawn and aerate it at the same time.  
  
Still own nothing but the grey matter between Oliver's ears. Well, I guess his parents and grandparents are mine, but by the time I'm done with them, do I really want them? Love you Josh. Thanks for playing along!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"All the milk has turned"  
  
St. Anthony's Academy was a dark, musty building. Oliver took in his surroundings as the Monseigneur gave him a tour of the school. The building had probably been around at least 5 years before God. It would do nicely. Oliver mentally arranged the chess pieces in his head. He was becoming a worthy opponent for his father. Soon the student would become the master.  
  
All in good time.  
  
The building was rich with icons. Saintly statues stood guard in the corridors. Graven images of a fair skinned, blue-eyed Jesus holding a lamb graced the walls. Eyes to follow his every move. Oliver would never have to be alone.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lll and Davina Carlisle Trask were in Singapore while their son was getting settled in his new school. They had made sure that the tuition had been paid in full, funds were available for any out of pocket expenses Oliver would have or want, a limo and driver would be at the school Monday and Wednesday afternoons to take him back and forth to his therapy sessions and would return again Friday afternoon at 3pm to pick him up and deposit him in the Trask family penthouse for the weekends.  
  
Davina Carlisle Trask sequestered herself in a luxurious suite of the Singapore Carlisle Hotel, recuperating from her latest "procedure". Oliver Sr. looked at his wife in disdain. If her face was pulled any tighter, the slightest twitch would cause her skin to tear. She had become a caricature of the woman whose money he'd fallen in love with.  
  
While his wife enjoyed her self-imposed exile and the attention paid to her by the hotel staff, Oliver Seaton Trask lll was also enjoying all that Singapore had to offer. The business meetings went exceedingly well, his golf game was superb and his carnal desires were sated by an exquisite array of women. Some had been entertaining businessmen from the west for a number of years and some made their "debut" with him. It was the youngest ones that he took the most pleasure in. He enjoyed their fear, drained them of their innocence, leaving an empty shell for the rest of the vultures.  
  
Oliver's room-mate was the first casualty in the game. Two days of non- stop staring by Oliver sent the boy packing. A pawn easily sacrificed. Oliver now had the room to himself. Privacy where none had existed. He settled back on his bed and closed his eyes.  
  
Natalie chased Oliver down the water slide. His squeals of laughter brought smiles to all of the pool patrons but one. Cold blue eyes followed the happy child. The laughter grated on his nerves. He felt his anger rising. Oliver saw his father and stopped in his tracks. His face fell as his father silently voiced his disapproval. Oliver Seaton Trask lll stepped away from the pool, hoping no one would connect the once happy child to him.  
  
Davina Carlisle Trask lay down on the massage table, feeling the strong hands of the masseur work his magic on her back. His hands traveled down her back, stopping at her surgically enhanced derrier. His left hand slipped between her thighs as his right hand continued kneading her taut lower back muscles. She was on her way to her own personal nirvana.  
  
Life at St. Anthony's was nothing if not regimented. Vespers at 7am, breakfast at 7:30am, classes started at 8am. Lunch was served at 12pm sharp. Classes ended at 3pm followed by mandatory intra-mural sports . Dinner was at 5pm. While Oliver could have done without vespers and soccer, he enjoyed the rigid scheduling. He was a more than capable student, but classes bored him. There were no real challenges presented in the 7th grade. His mother and father expected academic excellence and that was the only area in which he didn't disappoint his father. Too bad Oliver Seaton Trask lll had no idea how easy school work came to his son. Oliver Seaton Trask lV would have loved to twist the imaginary knife in his father's back  
  
Oliver read the postcard for the third time. His parents had traveled from Singapore to Jakarta and were now in Thailand. Business would keep them away until the New Year. Arrangements had been made for Oliver to stay with his maternal grandparents over the holiday season. More issues to talk about with his shrink. Dr. Emil Golding was a competent child psychologist and had been working with Oliver for nearly 8 years. The sessions were only as insightful as Oliver would allow them to be. Oliver had to hold back on the game during his time with the doctor. Oliver genuinely liked Dr.Golding, but he was not a worthy opponent. His fatal flaw was that he truly cared for his patients. Oliver did not have the heart to use that weakness against the doctor.  
  
Not yet.  
  
David and Julianna Carlisle were emotionally unreachable people. Decorum substituted for happiness. The only "pleasure" in their lives was the fact that Oliver's existence made their son-in-law miserable. But they enjoyed the boy's company. David Carlisle was grooming the boy to take over the family dynasty. He knew Oliver Seaton Trask lll had married Davina for a stake in the family's empire. What Oliver Seaton Trask lll didn't realize was that upon the deaths of the Carlisles, all their holdings would be held in trust for their grandson until his 35th birthday. Davina already had a large trust fund, courtesy of her mother's side of the family. She would never have to worry financially. Oliver Seaton Trask lll was given a job with the Carlisle Hotel chain overseeing all new projects. It was a position worthy of his talent. A position created the day he married Davina and was as real as the marriage vows he took. A meaningless position for a meaningless man.  
  
He had served his purpose.  
  
He sired an heir for them.  
  
Young Oliver was a gifted student under his grandfather's tutelage. He watched how his grandfather dealt with subordinates. He learned that business came above all else. Life was merely another business deal. Money was god and the Carlisle Hotel empire was heaven's reward. From his grandmother he learned to never let his guard down, how to keep his emotions in check, hiding behind an icy resolve and to bury feelings that could be used against him. He learned the fine art of manipulation from both his parents and grandparents. From Natalie Bishop he eventually learned the heartache of unrequited love. Oliver Seaton Trask lV was the product of his environment.  
  
The New Year's Day reunion between parents and son could be considered cordial at best. Oliver Seaton Trask lll barely acknowledged his namesake. It was only because he was in his in-laws house that he made any type of contact at all. Davina Carlisle Trask air kissed her son but allowed him to give her a momentary hug. Oliver looked at his mother. She looked feline. Instead of looking younger, her features had become cat like. Her eyes were now pulled upwards, her nose shortened. Her lips bore the evidence of collagen injections. Oliver used to think his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. Now that honour was held by a certain red-haired concierge.  
  
Oliver managed to finish out the school year at St. Anthony's without being "asked" to leave. It was almost disappointing, knowing his father had one less thing to complain about. He had hoped to return to St. Anthony's in the fall and graduate from the 8th grade with actual classmates. Despite his best efforts to remain aloof and play the game, he let his loneliness get the better of him and he let his guard down slightly and befriended a couple of non-threatening students. His father proved Julianna Carlisle right when the woman taught Oliver not to let his guard down. Oliver Seaton Trask lV would not be graduating from St. Anthony's Academy.  
  
The Trask family would be moving to Paris.  
  
The game was on.  
  
Oliver sat in the Carlisle private jet. His father talked incessantly on his cell phone. His sense of self-importance permeated the air. His mother was blissfully sampling from the Lear's well stocked bar. He did not want to leave his beloved Natalie.  
  
He would be back.  
  
He was 13 now. He didn't even make an appearance at this year's birthday party back in May. No one noticed. Now he was in Paris, in another school, refusing to do any work, refusing to speak the French language he was fluent in. It didn't matter anyway. He'd graduate, he'd move on to L'ecole St. Therese. The irony was not lost on him. The Trask family were devout aetheists, yet Oliver was attracted to the rituals found in the Catholic faith. Their repetitive nature soothed his soul. The words themselves meant nothing. They could either heal or hurt. They would slow his chaotic thoughts and allow him to plot his next move. Up until now the game was slow.  
  
It would no longer be a battle of wills.  
  
It had escalated to war. 


	3. and Captain Crunch is waving farewell

The only excuse I have for not updating sooner is gasp "Real Life" got in the way of my over-active imaginary one. . Yeah, yeah, it sucks to be me. Oh, forgive my mangling of the French language. It's been a while since I've studied it. My French reading is now limited to cereal boxes and food labels.  
  
Josh, if you don't sue me, I'll let you wear the boots for a while. I'll eventually let you have Oliver back.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
"And Captain Crunch is waving farewell..."  
  
For a family inhabiting the same country, there could not have been more of a distance between the members. Oliver Seaton Trask lll was consumed with business affairs. He met with businessmen from all over the European Union. The meetings were long and took place in private clubs, far from prying eyes. Any principles Oliver Seaton Trask lll may have ever learned, disappeared behind these closed, exclusive doors where the business was conducted and young girls were the commodity exchanged.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lV sat in salle de classe, tuning out le professeur droning on about les oeuvres de Shakespeare. Titus Andronicus... Would that be how his life ended up? With Oliver serving his tongueless, handless mother a pie filled with the remains of his father? A man who sucked the life out from those around him? Oliver dismissed the thoughts. They were weak. His father thought Oliver was weak. While Oliver Seaton Trask lll brutally exploited the weaknesses of others for his own gain... "A bloodsucker of sleeping men..." Oliver Seaton Trask lV learned from the foibles of those around him, subtly feeding, deriving strength for the battles ahead.  
  
For Davina Carlisle Trask, France was her haven from her loveless marriage. She indulged in the best it had to give her. The Red, the Burgundy, the Bordeaux. The rich cuisine was a necessary evil, remedied by weekly colonic irrigation.  
  
When she and her husband entertained business associates, the Trask family put on their finest display. They were the portrait of the perfect family. Loving partners for life blessed with the perfect son. As real as the picture that graced the yearly Christmas cards that were sent out. They all knew their roles.  
  
There were times that Davina Carlisle Trask wished that her life was more than a series of one-act plays, but to achieve that the cost would be too great. She would have to leave her 1994 Doumaine de la Pousse d'Or enhanced world and she didn't have the strength for that. Oliver Seaton Trask lll had seen to that.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lV lay back against the arms of the couch, his legs comfortable entwined with Manon's. They were kindred spirits, somehow drawn together, finding each other without looking, by-products of circumstance and unfortunate timing. They were considered to be nothing more that "necessary evils" by those who were supposed to love them more than life itself. They were two children being consumed by their own families, their souls absorbed in a feeding frenzy of power, greed and indifference.  
  
Oliver and Manon had an undefined relationship. She was beautiful and her beauty would serve her well as she searched later for what had been denied her. They weren't friends. Friendship was an emotional burden they were ill-equipped to bear. They had never kissed and would never do so. They rarely talked, enjoying their silence. They were just together. A reminder that their situations were not unique. This knowledge prepared them for the games which they had been forced to play.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lll stared out the window of his office. The view displayed in front of him was magnificent. Paris at night. Anyone else would have drank in it's radiance. To Oliver Seaton Trask lll, Paris was a path he would follow to reach his goal of owning the Carlisle Hotel empire. His wife had been so easy to manipulate. He spoke the right words, his acts of love and devotion were award winning. In the end, she all but begged him not to sign the pre-nuptial agreement that "Daddy" insisted upon. If it was what Davina truly wanted, Oliver Seaton Trask lll would do it for her. The document was burned, she defied her father. Daddy's little girl was in love, for real this time.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask went back to his ebony desk, glancing at the contracts he had signed. Four more hotels to be built. A trip to Malaysia to inspect the building site and partake of the attractions not found in the tourist guides. He picked up a small yellow post-it note. He recognized Davina's handwriting. He crumpled the paper, a reminder of a meeting at L'ecole St. Therese, regarding their son.  
  
Her son.  
  
His seed.  
  
Nothing more.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lV stared at the man sitting across from him. His academic counselor requested a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Seaton Trask lll to discuss their son's substandard academic performance. Oliver Seaton Trask lV was unfailingly polite to the counselor, the boy's eyes piercing through him. The counselor spoke quietly to Oliver, reminding him of his potential. The man looked at the clock and licked his lips again. Oliver's staring unnerved him. Oliver spoke the words he knew the counselor wanted to hear, never taking his eyes off him. His smile was too bright as he excused his parents' absence, not that he expected them to come. A half hour had passed before the counselor dismissed Oliver. Oliver Seaton Trask lV didn't bother to hide the self-satisfied smirk as his academic counselor spoke about rescheduling the meeting. Oliver mentally sacrificed his first pawn. A well timed accusation by Manon and the man in front of him would be the first casualty of the game.  
  
Davina Carlisle Trask tipped the handsome young sommelier generously. Her husband was not the only Trask with desires. The difference for her is that all liaisons were mutually beneficial. She paid well for services rendered. She took only what was given freely. No coercion, no commitment, no guilt. She picked up her glass, swirling the deep red liquid. It was a fine choice. He was a fine choice. The taste of him lingered. She finished her wine as she waited for the tub to fill. The warm water washed away all traces of him, leaving her with the memory of being desired, of being worth of affection.  
  
Davina Carlisle Trask sank deeper into the water. She thought briefly of calling her son, to ask if his father had met with the counselor. She knew the answer. She thought briefly of a small child, intense blue eyes like hers and dark hair like his father's. She had believed she wanted a child. The pregnancy was no accident. Fertility drugs taken under the guise of being birth control made her pregnancy possible. A last ditch effort to keep a man she thought she truly loved. His reaction to her pregnancy stunned her. Oliver Seaton Trask lll raged for days, insisting she terminate the parasite inside her. It was then she realized that her husband married her for money. She had married him for love.  
  
David Carlisle cut his daughter off financially when she married, but it didn't matter to her. She had her trust fund that had been invested wisely and now reaped the monetary benefits. Oliver Seaton Trask lll never knew of this. He believed her family's money would be his. It was just a matter of time. David and Julianna Carlisle were thrilled with the prospect of an heir. They never knew that their son-in-law had done everything in his power to coerce his wife into ending the pregnancy, but in the end the choice was made for Davina. She might have acquiesced to her husband's demands only because she believed she was nothing without him. What saved Oliver Seaton Trask lV's life in utero was a doctor's report, mistakenly sent to the wrong office of the Carlisle Hotel head office. A twist of fate that allowed him to grow to full term. David and Julianna Carlisle would not be denied their scion.  
  
Davina Carlisle Trask was ill-prepared for motherhood. She had her body surgically reconstructed two weeks after the caesarean section left her scarred. Her child had defiled her body. Her temple. She would not absolve him of that sin. She did however, hire the best caregivers for Oliver Seaton Trask lV. It was the best she could do. Even though his birth was not the child's fault, she couldn't help but blame him for the problems his existence brought her. What was once a mutually beneficial arrangement was now just a tolerable cruelty. Who could hurt whom the most.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lll and Davina Carlisle Trask knew where the weaknesses were. Their Achilles' heel. Oliver Seaton Trask lll stayed in a loveless marriage to obtain the prize due him. The Carlisle Hotel empire. Davina Carlisle Trask stayed in the marriage to punish him. He would never see the inner sanctum of the CEO office he desired. The empire would eventually belong to her son. Even without a pre-nup, Oliver Seaton Trask lll would not receive what he thought was owed him. Half of her trust fund perhaps, but nothing more. The real prize was their son. Through him, Davina Carlisle Trask would have control. Oliver Seaton Trask lV was a King on the chessboard.  
  
Oliver Seaton Trask lV watched from his dormitory room window as the former academic counselor loaded the last of the boxes in his Citroen. He felt no remorse, yet he didn't feel victorious. He didn't feel at all. He was learning well. The lessons constantly surrounded him, taught to him by his parents. He was an apt pupil. Once the game was completed, he would be the puppet master. 


End file.
